I USED to feel sorry for vicars who try to find something different to say each Christmas Day. Now I feel sorry for me.

If you've stuck with this column over the years you'll already know that I still take an almost childish delight in the celebration of Christmas, that I actually enjoy buying and wrapping up presents and decorating the house with natural greenery.

You may recollect that, in spite of my best intentions, I'm always at the last minute and, actually, I rather like it that way.

You'll have gathered that as a believing Christian, Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without that early morning visit to ancient Syde Church, so cold that you can see your breath, to sing the age old carols and hear the gospel for Christmas Day.

Then it's back to Harcombe for home reared turkey and Christmas pudding and opening the presents under the tree.

What will be different this year is that we have no one staying until Boxing Day when Kate, Emily, Dave and Daisy and Ruby arrive and we have a second present opening ceremony, particularly aimed at the children.

But as those round the Christmas Day table are also all family, there'll be no shortage of noise - or of dogs, since Lilly will be joined by her friends, Monica, Mole and Lucy, all resplendent in tinsel and collars with flashing lights.

Now that I'm retired I'd like to think that I'll be a bit more organised and that would certainly be a new angle on Christmas at Harcombe.

However, old habits die hard and I just know that on Christmas Eve I'll be balancing on the back of the old sofa in the kitchen, sticking holly and ivy behind the pictures, icing the Christmas cake while listening to carols from King's College and writing cards to my near and dear just before I tumble into bed in the early hours of the Great Day.